


Paraphiliae

by SongAboutExiles



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:06:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4355447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongAboutExiles/pseuds/SongAboutExiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU from Dolce, where Hannibal drugs Will and makes a very different decision.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Perhaps it was just that Hannibal’s hands were on his skin, hotter even than his own feverish flesh. The times, and oh, how he remembered each and every one, that Hannibal had touched him, caressed him, gutted him, he was always so hot. It was a strange artifact considering the cold-blooded thing he glimpsed inside his beloved butcher. Hannibal should be cold. Cold as death, as the grave, as a meat locker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paraphiliae

“You dropped your forgiveness, Will.” 

Cool steel pressed into his hot, clammy palm, and Will blinked and closed his fist around the blade. It felt good. Solid. Real. The pain in his shoulder was a faraway echo that he knew from experience should be much more present, much more pressing. 

Perhaps it was just that Hannibal’s hands were on his skin, hotter even than his own feverish flesh. The times, and oh, how he remembered each and every one, that Hannibal had touched him, caressed him, gutted him, he was always so hot. It was a strange artifact considering the cold-blooded thing he glimpsed inside his beloved butcher. Hannibal should be cold. Cold as death, as the grave, as a meat locker. 

There was more after that, about whether or not Will would make it fast or slow, when really Will wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and listen to that voice (that. voice.) as the void claimed him. 

_You were just shot in the shoulder; don’t be dramatic._

_And Hannibal Lecter just shot me full of sedatives, so…_

So the darkness claimed him, and he didn’t care.

**

Swimming to consciousness was becoming old hat at this point. At least this time he was warm, nothing particularly hurt, and he was somewhat surprisingly alive. Will opened his eyes a crack to see Hannibal by his bed—no, on his bed, perched close to him—watching him through those heavy-lidded eyes. 

He was naked under the blankets, clean, with his shoulder neatly bandaged. “You moved me to a new place.” Not as luxurious as Hannibal’s standard, which made him think that a plan had been changed, last minute. 

“I did. It wasn’t safe where we were, Will.” Hannibal was not fidgety, not by any standard, but there was a sense that he checked Will’s bandages to have something to do with hands that would like to be doing something else. 

“Safe for you, or for me?” As warm and comfortable as he was, all Will wanted was to reach out and draw his lovely monster into his arms. How would that feel, without a knife between them?

“For me. Jack was too close behind you.” Hannibal felt Will’s forehead with the back of his hand and clicked his tongue at him like a wayward child. “You do not take very good care of yourself, Will. Did you even give yourself the time you needed to recover?”

“From being gutted? I don’t think a person’s body is designed to recover from that, Hannibal.” Even so, there was no rancor in his voice. Just that same quiet acceptance. 

“Perhaps not, but you are not most people.” Hannibal sat back, somehow still impeccable even after doing impromptu surgery. 

“How did it feel for you? I’ve been wondering. To be inside me like that? Wrist-deep and slick.” Will met Hannibal’s predator gaze and held it. Even if he were not a predator himself (and how was to even begin to judge such a thing?), surely there was a respect earned from being worthy prey. Perhaps there was more than respect. 

He knew there was.

“You want to know if it excited me.” Hannibal narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “If it made me hard. You were close enough to me, held tightly in my arms. You can answer that.”

“Then, yes. It did. I wanted to run away with you, that night. That’s why I called you. I wanted to choose you.” They were not talking about friendship. They had never, truly, talked about friendship. 

“I feared you had made another choice. So I made mine.” He may not be a creature given to regret, but if Will had not forgiven him, Hannibal would have regretted those actions to his dying day. 

“If you couldn’t have me…” Will let the words trail off.

“But I did have you, dearest Will.” Surely that much was obvious, and Will nodded slowly.

“I’ve never been had so thoroughly in my entire life, in fact,” Will riposted, a small, wry smile tugging at his lips. Others had observed how when Will and Hannibal were in a room together, everything and everyone else tended to cease to exist. This moment was no different: heartbeats passing, gazes locked, volumes said in silence. Sometimes the silence must be broken. 

“Could you ever be my lover?” Will murmured. It was like jumping off a cliff, saying it out loud for the first time when it had lived in his head for so very long.

“Am I not?” Hannibal stroked the backs of his fingers along Will’s stubbled cheek, watching the flesh flush with the touch. “Or are you reducing me to some tiresome set of paraphiliae?” 

“Never. You would never allow your body to be anything less than under your perfect command.” Will turned his face the barest inch, letting his lips graze the pads of Hannibal’s fingers. 

“Then you want to know why I haven’t fucked you.” Always such a shock when Hannibal was crude, but even drugged, hearing that word from that mouth went right to Will’s balls.

“Why haven’t you fucked me, Hannibal?” His own mouth was much less rarefied. 

“You were ill. Then you were in the psychiatric hospital. And then we were separated. And now you’ve been shot.” As if it were all just a terrible inconvenience. 

“So…you would reprogram my mind while I was sick, but you wouldn’t fuck me?” Somehow, that made perfect sense to Will.

“Just so. It would have been ethically deplorable.” All Will could do was laugh softly. “I thought we’d established that I didn’t so much reprogram you as set you free.” 

“I think we will just have to agree to disagree on that point. I’ve been remade. Whether from the stuff of my own psyche or yours is immaterial, really.” Will paused. “I left you a present that you will never see.”

“Tell me about it. Let me see it through your eyes.” Hannibal took Will’s hand, holding it palm up in both of his, his thumb stroking over the exposed flesh. 

“The man who murdered your sister…after Chi-Yoh killed him, before we left to find you, I made him over into something beautiful. Something I thought Mischa would find enchanting. I gifted him with wings, and hundreds of glistening snails, and then I suspended him to wait forever for eyes that will never bear witness.” Will’s voice was soft, but steady.

“You did this for me.” In their dream-logic relationship, it hardly mattered that Will was the one who set him free. It was still a most worthy gift, and Hannibal’s eyes lit up imagining it through Will’s voice. 

“I would do anything for you. I have done anything for you.” He was acutely aware that Hannibal was still holding his hand. “Tell me something. Tell me the truth.”

“I will not lie to you, beloved.” No, he was a most honest monster when he chose to be.

“Would it be enough, to be buried as deep in me as you could go? To taste me, have me, fuck me? Would that be gift enough? Or is there absolutely nothing for it but to eat me?” Now Will’s voice trembled, because he understood all too well, better than anyone, what he’d just offered.

“I said, not long ago in fact, that I must eat you. I said what Bedelia expected to hear.” Hannibal’s lips quirked. Oh, the game he’d been playing, the one she thought she saw right through. “The reality is much more complex. The lines between us are so blurred, so non-existent, that by killing you I would be killing myself. Indeed, I do not think I would want, now, to live in a world where you are not by my side.” 

It was not quite a yes, not quite a no. Will was not so self-deluded as to think he somehow could parse everything that Hannibal just told him. He would never know if he was safe. Every time he fell asleep in the monster’s arms, he had to accept that he may never wake up. Every time they fucked, he had to make peace with the fact that Hannibal might rip out his throat with his teeth. 

Would he offer the beast his belly? Hadn’t he already, and hadn’t the worst already happened?

Will tugged his good hand free and reached up to grip the nape of Hannibal’s neck, tugging him down to kiss. It was unlike kissing anyone else. That expressive mouth on his, hot and clever, the tongue sliding into his mouth, thrusting deep with a hunger so primitive Will felt like they were out of time, out of civilization, riding out into the wild. 

What a contradiction his monster was, and oh how he tried to keep that person suit pressed and tidy. Will wanted to rip it off with teeth and claws and damn the consequences.

Despite the drugs, despite the danger or because of it, there was no part of him that could remain immune to Hannibal’s touch. His cock was hard, so hard, and his hips rode up as Hannibal claimed his mouth. There was a small victory in the low, growly noises his lover made, born of arousal, of claiming, of a kind of contentment. 

Now that the course was set, at long last, Hannibal was committed to carrying it out with his usual thorough attention to detail. Will didn’t want the skillful lover, though. He wanted his beast. Freeing his hands, he reached down to yank the covers back and away, baring himself, then yanking at Hannibal until he settled down into the hollow space left by his spreading thighs. It was chill in the room, but he didn’t miss the blankets with the heat radiating from Hannibal seeping into greedy pores. 

“I see you,” Hannibal murmured against Will’s lips, somehow balancing himself on one hand then the other as he opened up his shirt and cast it away, his own wounds still fresh. “I see whom it is you want.” 

“You. Always you. No room for anything else in our bed,” Will growled the words softly, hands all over bared skin and blunt nails scraping over already-tight nipples. The bulge he could feel against his erection was substantial, and it filled him with some kind of proto-human pride—yes, his lover was potent and virile and a very, very good hunter. He would never starve.

Did Hannibal really love civilization or just the hunting ground it provided? Were they about to find out, running, always close to the earth and living hand to mouth? Would he prefer a symphony hall to a hovel with Will? The thought made him laugh and catch the monster’s mouth again. 

“Always me. You are my brave, beloved one,” Hannibal whispered when he was given a moment to breathe, smiling at whatever it was that made Will laugh. He levered himself up and off Will, sliding down to a straining prick and taking it inside his mouth in three swallows, moaning helplessly at the flavor of his mate. 

This was a pivotal moment, one of many, his cock deep in a cannibal’s mouth—and yet Will just cried out and reached down to grab a fistful of Hannibal’s soft hair. It wasn’t that he was getting off on the danger. It was that Hannibal was shockingly, wonderfully good at sucking cock. Over-achiever, Will thought, letting his head flump back on the pillow and trying not to come like this. 

Hannibal knew how close he’d brought Will, and he relished keeping him on that bleeding edge of orgasm for long moments before taking pity and releasing him, tongue laving precome off the head before licking his lips obscenely. “You are a delight.” 

“A delicacy, even?” Will blew out breaths like a winded horse, slowly calming himself bit by bit for what would surely come next. 

“Even so. Spread your legs more, sweet one.” Of course Hannibal didn’t exactly bother to wait for Will’s druggy body to respond. He took a thigh in each strong hand and pulled and pushed, baring a tight little hole. “You’ve never done this before.” He planted one of Will’s thighs against his chest with a firmness that suggested it ought to stay right there, and then he licked his thumb and used it to circle the closed up furl of muscle. 

“No. Never.” It didn’t matter, surely. Surely, Hannibal would be happy to stake his claim, mark his territory. 

“It will hurt, at first.” There was no helping it. They didn’t have any lubricant, and Hannibal was a big man in every way.

Will gasped as the nerve endings awoke under Hannibal’s touch. “Let it hurt.” He wasn’t backing down, and there was no way he was stopping this or changing its nature. It was supposed to hurt, wasn’t it, when you passed from one life stage to another? A woman hurt to become a mother. Maybe Will had to hurt to become a lover, a half of a whole. 

“So brave,” Hannibal whispered again, sliding down the bed and making an awful ruckus of the covers as he splayed himself between Will’s thighs, tongue taking the place of his thumb. “My dearest one.” How long had Hannibal longed for this? To taste him like this? All Will knew was that the noise the other man made when he pressed his tongue deep past muscles too surprised to resist was an ecstatic one. The sound one made when one took a particularly life-changing bite of a new dish. 

Maybe this would be enough, at least for awhile.

And maybe this was no time to think, with any part of his mind. Hannibal commanded his complete attention, tongue buried deep then sliding back out to trace around the rim, suckling, thrusting, even nibbling a little as the muscle unfurled, blossomed. Dimly, Will heard Hannibal’s command to push out with those muscles, and oh, he felt obscene then, so open. 

Even Hannibal must have been satisfied, because the next thing he felt was a long, dexterous, spit-slick finger pushing deep into him. It astonished him, and aroused him beyond words, how his body accepted it, his hips rose to meet it, and all he could do was gasp and make noises he scarcely recognized. “Hannibal…”

“I know, my darling. You are perfect, beautiful, mine…just keep pushing, keep letting me in.” Hannibal’s finger was gone then, briefly, and he lifted his head to let Will see him suckle at his own fingers before pressing back inside with two. The bigger man leaned up to kiss Will, his tongue delving deep before Will even had a chance to catch a breath, sharing the flavor of his own body with him. It was earthy and musky and Will sucked it right off Hannibal’s tongue. 

Two fingers made him feel a stretch, a delicious burn unlike anything he’d ever felt. It was painful, but in the way of pulling on a scab or itching a bothersome bug bite till it bled. Like there was something in him that was desperate to be touched but never had been. He wasn’t stupid, or naïve—he knew what a prostate was. But when Hannibal went three fingers wide inside him and unerringly found his, he suddenly knew just what that itch was deep inside. His hips shot up off the bed and he cried out for Hannibal with no pride whatsoever. 

Hannibal ate those cries, mouth hovering close to Will’s. “Yes, yes…that’s it. That’s my beloved,” he murmured in filthy encouragement as Will practically melted around his fingers. “I know, I know…” He rubbed the little gland firmly, watching intently as Will’s hole spasmed open and his cock jerked and dripped on his belly, hips shooting up off the bed. 

Will felt like he needed to be speared, impaled, pinned down somehow before he just shot off into the stratosphere. “Fuck, Hannibal, please. Need you in me. Feel like…” What were the words.

“I know, sweet one. Like you’re going to fly away from me. We can’t have that, though.” No, his Will was going to stay right here. Keeping three fingers in Will, holding him open, Hannibal knelt between his thighs and unzipped his trousers, pushing them and his underwear down past his ass and sighing with relief as his trapped cock sprang up against his belly. 

Will’s eyes were wide, not with fear but with hunger. Yes, yes, that would do it. That would fill him up and hold him down and make him fly all at the same time. It was deliciously filthy when Hannibal spat down onto his prick, rubbing saliva in with the precome until it shone slickly in the dim light. 

“I’m sorry, Will,” he whispered, just before pulling out his fingers and pushing in with his cock. Obviously not too terribly sorry, because he kept going until he was balls-deep in Will’s smaller body. 

Will froze at the pain, blinked his eyes a few times. Wrapped his thighs around Hannibal’s hips and looked up at him. “What the fuck are you apologizing for? Fuck me.” 

Hannibal grinned that feral grin that only came out when the person suit was gone, leaning over Will and finding a deep, slow rhythm that was still hard enough to make the old bedframe slam against the wall. The clamor added to the thick, heady atmosphere and Will grabbed at Hannibal to hold him close, shivering when his mouth found a space to lick and suck at the join of neck and shoulder. 

Soon, Will learned to keep pace with the rhythm, lifting his hips with each thrust, prostate battered and cock trapped and rubbed against. It wasn’t a question of whether or not he could come like this, just when he would. Sex had always been a somewhat chilly affair for him. Nice, but not worth the awkward social interactions and inevitable heartaches. This was anything but. There was nothing awkward in this, nothing cold. 

Slowly, he became aware of a small, barely-there whine from Hannibal as the other man fucked him, licked and sucked lightly at his flesh. Oh, Will knew what he wanted. “Bite.” 

Hannibal groaned and let his teeth sink in, pressing with powerful jaws. The sudden pain of it, the faint tang of his own blood, a particularly brutal thrust right against his sweet spot and Will was coming, practically turning himself inside out for Hannibal as he spurted over their bellies. His lover couldn’t resist the bright spill of blood over his tongue, the contraction and slick as Will came, and he followed right on down, filling Will up and shuddering atop him. 

In the end, it was a tiny wound, and Hannibal licked at it till the blood stopped, then kissed a panting, muzzy-headed Will. Will smiled, honestly admitting he enjoyed the taste of it, the feel of the big, heavy body on him, the broad prick still spearing into him and holding him open. He loved it, in point of fact.

As he drifted, content and unafraid (unafraid not because he suddenly believed he was safe, but unafraid because he did not care anymore), Hannibal cleaned him with his tongue. Why waste such precious flavors in such delicate combinations? Sweat, blood, seed, all lapped up. Despite his sleepy protestations, though, Hannibal refused to join him until he’d disinfected the bite, bandaged it, and checked on the gunshot wound. 

After that, after all of it, Hannibal stripped off the soiled remnants of his clothes and eased in on Will’s side, behind him, wrapping his arms around the smaller body. “My best beloved,” he whispered into Will’s ear. 

“I love you, too,” Will returned, not feeling nearly as poetic. 

He let the darkness claim him. He would wake or not, live or not. But he would die or live with the one he loved, and he was content.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into Hannibal fandom/Hannigram though I've been a devoted fan for years now. Hope I lived up to the standard!


End file.
